San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1887-01-17

Things were in this state shortly be-
fore the Derby. / was going on in a
bad way. / knew that something must
be done before long. | knew that |
must carve out new path for myself
somehow; that / must cOntrive some
fresh plan, or go without Lucy, and also
go to universal smash. Yet what to do
/ did not know. | waited, in hope
lessly hopeful condition, for something
to turn up. l put trouble and worry
away from me, and would have none
of it.
Do you not know that curious dreamy
condition YOU get into sometimes, when
you refuse to allow yourself to think Of
the future? You live in kind of I'M
real reality, to use paradoXical ex-
preston. The present you make to Oc-
cupy your thoughts entirely. You wait
for the unexpected.
"Well, that was my case then. l was
as gay as ever, made merry with my
friends as usual, and talked to my Lucy
God forgive me!-as if l were coming
into ten thousand year the next week.
Meanwhile, l threw off daub, after
daub, until even my accommodating
'uncle" looked suspicious and hesita-
ting, and nearly all the resulting cash
was put on horses whose names had
been mysteriously confided to me as
those of certain winners.
was not very heavily booked for the
Derby, as it happened, having in
tended to puts something on" on the day
before the race. An uncomfortable
assurance was with me of impending
trouble. l felt that the crisis of my for
tunes was close at hand.
However, before anything unpleasant
occurred, an unexpected something
turued up. 1t came in the person of my
friend Mr.. James O'Hooligan.
Jimmy O'Hooligan was boisterous
Irshman, very well known in the Bohe-
mia of London at that time. He was a
middle-aged man, of somewhat hand
some appearance, and carrying himself
with military air. He possessed a
glib tongue, an amazing fund of anec-
dote, had a musical voice and ear, and
all the social advantages of one who has
kissed the Stone of Blarney. Need
add that Jimmy was extremely popular
with the ladies and gentlemen of his ac-
quaintance?
He got his living in one of those mys-
FERROUS WAYS common to Bohemia.
Sometimes he sat as model in the
studios of such artists as could afford
the luxury. In this way he may have
earned good deal at times-for models
are often very well paid-and he has
figured in manya character on the walls
of Burlington house.
Jimmy seemed to be known by every
body. He hung about newspaper offices,
particularly those of sporting charac-
ter. He was admitted behind the scenes
of theaters. He was on the free-list at
every music hall. He knew every promi-
nent member of ''the fancy" and the 2.
R., and all over London he was hailed
as cherished friend by publicans and
bar-maids.
These characteristics threw roman
tic halo over Jimmy, to my young and
somewhat verdant mind. Moreover, he
was the life and soul of every party he
got among, though rather vulgar,
coarse, and disreputable soul, it must
be admitted. But he was frequent
visitor to the studios of Camden Town,
and was quite one of our free-and-easy
fraternity.
1t was the Monday morning before
the Derby, that race, as everyone knows,
being run upon a Wednesday. l was
sitting in my studio at work, knocking
of those thin experiments in color which
took but day to complete, and upon
which "uncle" would advance me Is
shillings or pound, half Of that profit
or earning to me, the balance covering
cost of canvas, cOlors, and frame. In
the midst of my work there entered to
me the O'HOOligan.
Evidently there was something in the
wind; Jimmy's entrance was dramatic
ally impressive. Cautiously projecting
his head and shoulders through the half
opened doorway, he asked:
"Are we alone2"
/ was, and said so. Then he slid slow
ly into the room, like snake, holding
the door as closely as was compatible
with the passage Of his body. Once in
side, he quickly closed the door, and
summoning into his face look of in
tense excitement. He seemed to be
laboring under the pressure of some
tremendous secret, which was strug-
Cling to force its way out of him.
Suddenly he crossed the room toward
me with long, slow strides, and on tip
toe, holding up a warning finger the
while, and literally cleaning on me
hands on my shoulders. he whispered
hoarsely.
"Our fortunes madel'
Then he stood back and eyed me.
"Oh, indeed" l said, for knew jim
my. Another straight tip supposep"
Another" he shrieked. "The straight
tip, me bhoyl The straightest that liver
-therei eighties to wanl a hundred to
wanl and sartin as the fate av sinnersl"
l struggled desperately against the
contagion of Jimmy's manner, for /
knew by experience what it all meant.
! said:
Look here, old man, I've had about
enough of your tips. They never come
off you knowl"
"Ah, now, see herel Ye've been
playin' at bettin'-no more. gave We
tips, it's true, and they didn't come off.
That's partly the reason why Pm givin'
We this, to make up for thin others. I'm
in airnest, this timeI'
Hewas, apparently. His eyes were
dancing and glittering in his head, his
hands demonstrating, and his whole
person indicative of eagerness. He
could hardly speak, so strong was his
agitation. 1 began to feel the excite
ment extending to myself, and knew
that was destined to give way to it.
''See now," he continued. 1--WE sur
prised wan av the deadest saycrets av
the turf, wan av the biggest things that's
liver been. l tell We we could make
our fortunes if we'd ownly enough to
put on. It's plant that's just goin' to
make this Derby the most astoundin'
wan liver runl
mo! 1t don't matther how got it.
l can't tell even you that. But / said to
myself, ye've got to keep this thing dark.
There's just wan chum ye're goin' to
take in wild yer. Him an you's goin' in
on this thing, an goin' to do the biggest
shtroke liver yen git the chance Of yer